Do you see, do you see how perfect I am?
Do you see how perfectly I fix my face to look lovely?
Do you see how perfectly I do my hair to look so soft and beautiful?
Do you see how perfectly I act?
Everything about me is perfect, I know you think it.
It’s in your eyes when you look at me while I walk down the halls.
You stare at the people who are vying for my attention, and you think I’m just perfect as you mouth the words;
“God, I hate her.”
And so I tell myself, every day, just how perfect I am.
When I wake up in the morning, I think of how perfectly I must have looked while I slept.
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